Chapter VI: Part 6

"Ay, not for riches, so 'twould seem," replied Sherebiah rather hurriedly. "A' was down at heel, more like a ragged vagrom than the smart soul as drank his pint at the Berkeley Arms. Mother Joplady couldn' abide un."

"Did he see you?"

"Not him. Nor I don't want to see un, the mumpen cockney.--Supper's ready, sir."

Next morning Harry proceeded with his convoy along the Eyndhoven road and arrived late at his destination, Helmund. Almost the whole of the following day was occupied in loading his wagons and procuring extra carts to carry the stores collected by Grootz's client, Peter Kolp. At his first interview with that "poor friend" of Mynheer Grootz, Harry made it clear that, as a matter of form, the provisions would be carefully tested in quality and quantity, with the result that they were found to be excellent and full weight. It was four o'clock before he was ready to start for Breda. He followed a different route on his return journey. Madame de Vaudrey's house, Lindendaal, lay on the upper road toward Boxtel--a safer road to travel, as a report had come in that the French had made their appearance near Turnhout, to the south, and were coming apparently in the direction of Eyndhoven.

Unluckily, the convoy had proceeded only a few miles on its return to Breda when, as it was crossing the Aa river, one of the horses took fright and toppled the cart into the water. Fortunately the stream was sluggish and shallow, but Harry saw that it would take some time to extricate the wagon from the mud and collect what part of its load was worth saving. Leaving Piet Brinker in charge of the work, he decided to push on himself with the remainder of the convoy, deliver the packet he carried for Madame de Vaudrey, and wait for the rescued wagon to overtake him. He knew that, with the hospitality universal in Holland, the countess would not allow him to proceed unrefreshed, and he was in truth not a little glad of the opportunity of seeing the lady whom Grootz had so emphatically called his friend. He therefore drove on. The wagon wheels ploughed deep furrows in the heavy sandy roads, and the big Dutch horses plodded on steadily but slowly. The road wound by and by through avenues of elms, pruned of their branches in the Dutch way, and looking to Harry's English eyes very starved and ugly. At length he came to a wall on the right that appeared to enclose a park of some considerable size. A peasant was passing, whom he hailed, asking in Dutch whether this was the house of Madame de Vaudrey. The man looked stolidly at him without replying. Sherebiah repeated the question, using a different phrase. The Hollander answered at once that this certainly was Lindendaal, the chateau of the French lady. Harry sprang from his wagon, ordered the drivers to draw up by the side of the road, which was here parallel with a narrow canal, and entered the gate accompanied by Sherebiah.

"I'll tell you one thing that puzzles me, Sherry," he remarked, as they passed up an avenue bounded on both sides by a breast-high balustrade of stone. "You and I have been in this country the same time, and seen each as much as the other of the people, and yet you have beat me altogether in picking up the language, hard as I have worked at it. I don't understand it."

"Ah well, Master Harry," said Sherebiah, "'tis like that sometimes, so 'tis. You be a scholard, with book larnen and all that; I be, true, a poor common mortal, but mebbe my ear be quicker 'n some."

"Still, the time is rather short for you to have learnt to speak the language so well as you do. Your knowledge has grown as quickly as your beard."

"True now, mebbe so; Samson in the Holy Book growed amazen clever wi' his locks; but I never thowt afore as how it med be the same in these days."

Harry laughed.

"It looks very English, doesn't it?" he said, pointing to the house. It was square, with a veranda painted blue, under which were several windows opening to the ground. In front was an open semicircular space, around which were parterres of brilliant flowers; these were separated from the park and orchard by a prolongation of the balustrades that lined the drive. There were dormer windows in the roof, and at one angle rose a kind of belfry surmounted by a weathercock.

"Give me the packet, Sherry; you had better remain at the door while I go in."

"Ay, or mebbe I med find my lone way to the kitchen?"

"No, no; remain at the door until I have seen Madame de Vaudrey. I can't have you coquetting with her maids."

Harry went to the door, which stood open, the afternoon having been warm. A spare, anxious-looking man-servant came in answer to his ring.

"Is Madame de Vaudrey within?" he asked in Dutch.

The man's accent when he replied in the affirmative left no doubt that he was a Frenchman. Harry explained his errand in French, whereupon the man said in the same language that his mistress was for the moment engaged, but that if Monsieur would wait no doubt she would see him shortly. He led Harry through the wide hall, up a handsome oak staircase into a little ante-room, where, begging him to be seated, he shut the door upon the visitor.

Harry was immediately aware of voices engaged in conversation on the other side of the folding-doors that formed one wall of the room. At first the sounds came to him as murmurs in different tones, but after a time they became louder, and though he could not distinguish the words it was plain that one at least of the speakers was very angry. At length he heard the fierce clanging of a bell below; a few moments after, the manservant came running into the ante-room and threw open the folding-doors. Harry, looking into what was evidently the drawing-room, saw a group of four. One was clearly the lady of the house, short, stout, dressed in a costume little resembling the Dutch housewife's usual attire. She was very angry, talking vehemently, and gesticulating with her plump white hand. By her side stood a younger lady, half a head taller, slim and graceful, perfectly still and collected, though her cheeks were flushed. Opposite to the two ladies, their backs to the four windows which lit the other end of the room, were two men, one very tall and lean, with thin lips. The other was but little shorter and a good deal stouter. Harry's attention had been at first attracted to the ladies; the burlier of the two men was the last of the four to be noticed; and it was with a shock of amazement that he recognized in his figure and blotched red face no other than Captain Aglionby.

"Allez-vous-en, allez-vous-en!" the elder lady was repeating. "Quittez ma maison, tout de suite; je vous l'ordonne, je l'exige, je le veux absolument; retirez-vous, messieurs, d'ici, et au plus vite!"

Aglionby laughed. None of the four had yet caught sight of Harry standing back in the darker ante-room. The lady turned to the manservant and ordered him to eject the unwelcome visitors. The servant hesitated to attempt a task clearly beyond his strength. Aglionby put his hand on his sword, and then laughed again brutally as he recognized that he had nothing to fear. All the time the taller man stood quietly watching the scene, occasionally moistening his lips; and the girl remained in the same tense immobility, her eyes never leaving the face of Aglionby.

Harry felt it was time to intervene.

"Perhaps I may be allowed--" he began. At the first word the captain swung round as if on a pivot and stared. His puffed crimson face turned a sea-green as he saw advancing towards him, fresh, lithe, confident, the youth whom he fondly imagined by this time leading a slave's life in a Barbados plantation. The other man did not stir; but the two ladies looked towards the speaker with a sort of startled surprise. Stepping towards the elder, Harry continued:

"Perhaps I may be allowed to offer my services. If Madame will be so good as to retire, I will--reason with these gentlemen."

Madame de Vaudrey clasped her hands and looked indecisively at the new-comer, as though doubting the propriety of accepting the intervention of a stranger. Harry was on the point of explaining who he was, when the matter was settled in an unexpected way. The girl moved to her mother's side and took her by the hand. Then, turning to Harry, she said in clear, cold tones:

"If Monsieur will rid the house of these two men he will do my mother a great service. Come, Mamma!" And then, without another glance at any of the three, she led Madame de Vaudrey, still half-resisting, from the room.

The colour had been gradually returning to Aglionby's face, and when the ladies had disappeared his purple hue was deeper than ever. But the surprise of Harry's presence was so great that for the moment the doughty captain was nonplussed; his anger was at boiling-point, but he was clearly at a loss what course to take. His companion stood expectant, a slight smile still on his face--a smile rendered peculiarly disagreeable by a twitching of the mouth that drew one corner perceptibly upwards towards the left ear.

The interval of silence seemed longer than it really was.

"I am sure, gentlemen," said Harry with great urbanity, "you will see the propriety of at once relieving Madame de Vaudrey of your presence."

Then the storm broke. Glaring with rage, unable to stand still, stuttering in his speech, Aglionby roared:

"You insolent puppy, you low-born cully, you--how dare you speak to me! What are you doing here? Stap me, I'll run you through the midriff and rid the world of a bit of vermin!"

"I shall be delighted to give you an opportunity--outside," said Harry quietly. "Meanwhile, the door is open, and by making your exit you will please not Madame de Vaudrey only, but me and, it appears, yourself."

"Adsbud, I'll--I'll----" stuttered Aglionby, half drawing his sword. Harry had his right hand on the hilt of his own weapon, the third man was still watching the scene, when an unlooked-for diversion occurred. Harry was between the two rooms, the two men opposite him with their backs to the drawing-room windows, which were open. It happened that a flight of steps led up from the garden to a balcony beneath these windows. At this critical moment a fourth man came suddenly into the room from the outside. Before any of the three could perceive what was happening, the new-comer, with a long acrobatic spring, simultaneously imprisoned in his arms the necks of Aglionby and his companion, and half-throttling them dragged them past Harry, through the ante-room, into the corridor, and down the staircase. Harry followed, himself somewhat amazed at their helter-skelter progress--bumping down the stairs, struggling vainly in Sherebiah's vice-like grip, swaying against the balusters first on one side then on the other, the wood-work creaking and groaning under the pressure. Half-way down the men lost their feet altogether, and were incapable of resisting the rush with which their captor hauled them across the vestibule and through the open door, where he pulled up with a sudden jerk and shot them down the flight of shallow steps on to the drive in front. The whole proceeding scarcely occupied more than half a minute, so sudden had been the onset, so helpless were the two men, gasping half-strangled in Sherebiah's merciless hug.

Harry ran down the stairs, expecting to find his man engaged in a battle royal before the house. But when he reached the door he saw Aglionby and the Frenchman already halfway down the drive towards the road. They had not waited, then, to demand satisfaction of him. Smiling at his recollection of their headlong descent, he went upstairs again, and was met by Madame de Vaudrey, who had come from another room at the sound of scuffling. She was very pale.

"They are gone, Madame," said Harry at once, to reassure her.

"Oh, Monsieur, I thank you, I thank you with good heart! Your help at the precise moment was so precious. I cannot thank you too much."

"It was my servant, Madame--a very useful fellow. He did it all himself. I am glad we happened to be at hand. This unforeseen incident has prevented me, Madame, from explaining my presence here. I have called to leave a packet entrusted to me by Mynheer Grootz, a friend of yours, I think."

"Oh! it is my tulip bulb. Mynheer Grootz promised to send it me. Yes, he is a friend of mine indeed. But are those men really gone? Will they not overpower your brave servant? They are bad men--oh, they are bad! I fear them."

"I saw them going down the drive. And my man knows how to take care of himself," said Harry. "They will not trouble you again at present. And now, Madame, as I have Mynheer Grootz's packet in the ante-room, if you will allow me to place it in your hands I will take my leave and proceed on my way."

"Mon Dieu, non!" cried the lady. "You must allow me to give you some refreshment, and your brave man too--if he is really safe! Jean," she called to the servant, "bring wine and cakes and fruit to the drawing-room. But first see if this gentleman's servant is safe."

"He is, Madame," replied the man at once. "The men from the stables and the garden were coming to the door: Mademoiselle had fetched them: and they were too many for Monsieur de Polignac and the other."

"How thankful I am! Bring the brave man up with you. Now, Monsieur--I do not know your name?"

"It is Harry Rochester, Madame; I am English."

"Indeed! Come into the drawing-room and rest. Jean will bring something to eat and drink immediately."

She led the way into the room, gave Harry a comfortable chair, and sat opposite to him, folding her plump hands on her lap, and heaving a sigh of satisfaction and relief. The servant soon reappeared with a tray, and when Madame de Vaudrey had seen Harry supplied with drink and food that pleased him, she dismissed her man, read the letter Mynheer Grootz had enclosed with his gift, and began to talk.

"You are English? That is interesting. My dear husband's mother was English, so that my daughter has a little--a very little, of course--English blood in her. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you came when you did. That is also another debt I owe to Mynheer Grootz. He writes very amiable things of you. I was at my wits' end, Monsieur Rochestair; I will tell you about it.--Do you like that wine?"

"Thank you, it is excellent."

"I am so glad! You speak French very well for an Englishman. My daughter wishes to learn English. She takes after her father, not after me. I wonder where she is?"

Harry followed her glance to the door; he too had wondered what had become of the tall girl who had shown so much decisiveness of character at an awkward moment. But she did not appear.

"Well," continued the amiable hostess, "let me tell you all about it."

Mynheer Grootz's recommendation was clearly a passport to her favour. She leant back in her high chair, and in her clear, well-modulated voice told Harry what he was, it must be confessed, curious to hear. It was three years since her husband, the Comte de Vaudrey, died. He was a student, not a man of affairs; and his fortune suffered through his lack of business-like qualities. The estate, a small one, purchased by his father when as a Huguenot he fled from France at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, was now much encumbered. Monsieur de Vaudrey had bought the best perspective glasses and other expensive scientific instruments, had spent large sums on rare books and specimens, and had so embarrassed himself that he had to apply to the Amsterdam bankers, who advanced him money on a mortgage of the estate. Not long afterwards he died.

"It is only a year ago," continued Madame de Vaudrey, "that we learnt that we were to have a neighbour. The estate adjoining our own had been in the market for many years, and we heard that it had at last been purchased by a Monsieur de Polignac, a Frenchman, and a Huguenot like ourselves. We were rejoiced at the news; a neighbour of our own race and faith would be so charming, we thought. And so indeed he was, at first. I thought his visits to his estate too few; he was so often at the Hague; when he came to see us he was so debonair, so gracious, that I liked him well. With my daughter, quite the contrary. It was prejudice, I told her; but from the first she looked on him coldly. Then all at once he became a more frequent visitor, and I saw--yes, a mother's eyes are keen--that he had pretensions to my daughter's hand. I did not oppose him; he was rich, noble, a Huguenot; but Adele--certes, Monsieur Rochestair, no maiden could ever have given less encouragement. The first time he was refused he smiled--he does not look well when he smiles, think you?--and said that he would still hope. But though I thought the match a good one, I would not persuade my daughter: she is all I have, Monsieur, and so young. He went away; then a few days ago I am astonished to see him reappear in company with Captain Aglionby, who is visiting him. Now first I begin really to dislike Monsieur de Polignac."

"Did you know Captain Aglionby before, then?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Yes; that is why. I know him, and I think no friend of his can be a good man. Captain Aglionby stayed for a month in this house some five years ago. No, he was not a welcome guest; he was brought here to recover from a wound he had received in a skirmish near by; ah, Monsieur, he is an odious man! I hate his loud voice, his turbulence, his rodomontade; imagine, three times, Monsieur, three times he intoxicated himself in my house, and excused himself with the plea that he had done so many times with the Czar of Muscovy. He used to force himself into my husband's study, meddle with his things, spoil his scientific experiments--my husband was discovering a plan to get gold from sea-water, and we should have been so rich! But the odious captain ruined all. I am sure he did, for the experiments came to nothing."

"Why did you put up with it?"

"Alas! what could we do? My husband was a man of tranquil soul who had lived so long with his books that he could not deal with men. As for me--you see me, a poor helpless woman! and Adele was then only eleven! judge then my surprise and alarm when I see Captain Aglionby in company with Monsieur de Polignac. Still more to-day, when Monsieur de Polignac comes once more to urge his suit. Adele refuses him with scorn. And then--oh, the villain!--he tells me he has bought from the Jews of Amsterdam the mortgage on this estate, and if Adele will not be his wife, then he turns us out--think of it, Monsieur; turns two defenceless women out. This it is that changes me, a weak woman, into a fury, as you see."

Harry forbore to smile at Madame de Vaudrey's placid impersonation of a fury.

"They are a couple of villains indeed," he said. "It was truly fortunate that I came with Sherebiah at the right moment."

"Yes, indeed; a thousand thanks! And only think of it: just before you came Captain Aglionby, odious man, had dared to hint that when we were thrust out of our home he would do me the honour to marry me. Truly an honour! No, I never forget my dear husband; no, never! Ah, this is the dear brave man, your servant?"

The door had opened, and Sherebiah came in awkwardly, turning his hat between his hands. Madame de Vaudrey rose and, smiling upon him, said:

"I give you a thousand thanks. You are a hero; how strong! how bold!"

Sherebiah bobbed.

"Madame de Vaudrey thanks you," said Harry.

"'Tis handsome of the lady, sir, and I'm obleeged, and axes you to put my sarvices into French lingo, sir."

He bobbed again.

"What about Captain Aglionby?" asked Harry.

"Well, sir, I reckon he be madder than a March hare. Nigh to bust hisself, and hot as pepper. Would ha' slashed me, man o' peace as I be, if 'tweren't for half a dozen Dutch coofs wi' pitchforks and other articles o' warfare drawn up below, wi' the young lady at their head. Ay, she be a warrior bold, sure enough: I never seed such a piece of female manliness all my life long. 'Twas with a flashen eye and a pink rose on each pretty cheek her stood and ordered 'em out. Ay, an uncommon upstanden piece o' womankind her be, to be sure."

Harry was glad that Madame de Vaudrey's ignorance of English could not fathom this plain-spoken tribute to her daughter's charms.

"They are really gone, then?" he said.

"Why, yes, both on 'em; the long beetle chap as well. He be a next-door neighbour, it seems, and a mighty unpleasant neighbour he must be.--Thank 'ee kindly, mum," he added, as Madame de Vaudrey offered him a glass of wine, "but if 'ee don't mind, I'd rather wet my whistle with a mug of beer in the kitchen."

The lady smiled when this was interpreted.

"You English are like the Hollanders in that," she said. "Certainly. Jean, take the brave man to the kitchen and treat him well."

Sherebiah pulled his forelock and departed with alacrity.

"We must shortly be going on our way, Madame," said Harry. "I have a convoy of provisions for the garrison at Breda, and my wagoners are even now growing impatient, I doubt not."

"But, Monsieur, I cannot hear of it. You cannot reach Breda to-night; and suppose those odious men return? You must be tired. Do me the favour to stay here for the night; and we can find a bed for your man also."

"But the wagons?"

"Let them go on to the village; it is but half a league away. They can remain at the inn there. Monsieur, I insist; and besides, I have to write a letter of thanks to my friend Mynheer Grootz."

Harry had no reason for refusing an invitation so cordial. Madame de Vaudrey beamed when he accepted, and, begging to be excused, went off to make arrangements with her servants. Left to himself, Harry looked round the room. It was richly furnished; the tables, cabinets, and chairs were of French make, in highly polished rose-wood; chairs and sofas were covered with crimson velvet, and two cabinets were filled with beautiful porcelain and Dutch china. The pictures upon the walls were all French, except one--a portrait, evidently by a Dutch hand and of a comparatively recent date. It represented a man's head, with dark complexion and wistful melancholy eyes. Harry was attracted to it by a slight resemblance to his father; not in the features, which were quite unlike, but in the curious sadness of the expression. His thoughts were carried back to his old home at Winton St. Mary, and the quiet life with his father there; a mist came before his eyes, and he fell into a reverie, standing thus before the picture.

So rapt was he in recollection that he did not hear the door open behind him, nor turn to see the entrance of Adele de Vaudrey. For a moment the girl stood in the doorway, holding the handle. An onlooker would have seen a strange shifting of expression upon her face as she paused in hesitation whether to advance or retire, to speak or to remain silent. It was but for a moment; her lips softened, her long lashes drooped down upon her eyes; and closing the door as noiselessly as she had opened it she slipped away.

*CHAPTER X*

*Bluff*

A Stroll--A Fair Cook--Love and Duty--An Arrival--General van Santen--Raiders--A Dozen all Told--Rallying the Peasants--Desperate Counsels--The Masqueraders--Strategy--A Ruse de Guerre--Stage Effects--Final Touches--In Sight--At the Door--Ransom--A Turn of the Screw--Phantom Forces--Dilemma--Discretion--Courtesies

"Ah, my dear Monsieur Rochestair, pardon me for leaving you so long. I have been to prepare your room."

"Thank you indeed, Madame!"

"You were looking at the portrait? It is my dear husband. Is it not a fine head? Can you imagine, after seeing it, that I could put that odious captain in his place? Not that I should think every man bad unless he resembled my husband. No, that would be unjust. But come and see my garden, Monsieur Rochestair. It is beautiful outside now that the sun is going down."

"I shall be delighted. I have noticed how the scent of the flowers comes to us here through the windows."

"Yes, I love flowers. Mynheer Grootz knows that."

Madame conducted Harry through the grounds. They were laid out with more freedom than was usual in Holland, and reminded him at many a turn of well-tended parks at home. The house was surrounded by its garden; beyond this was an expanse of lawn and thin park bounded by a wall. Beyond this again, Madame de Vaudrey explained, lay the orchard belonging to the far larger estate now owned by Monsieur de Polignac. At a considerable distance from the house on the eastern side Harry remarked a large open stretch of ground, roughly circular in shape, covered with grass that grew wild and was left uncropt, Across the middle of it ran a ditch, now apparently dry, passing under the garden wall and the road, and evidently connected with the canal. Near to the spot where the ditch disappeared beneath the wall stood a large dilapidated building, like the storehouse usually attached to a Dutch mill.

"You wonder at our neglect of this part of the grounds," said the lady with a smile. "But that is our skating pond. In winter we open the sluices at the canal end of the ditch; it fills, the water overflows, and thus we flood the field. Then comes the frost, and we have, I think, the finest skating pond in Holland, and quite safe. We used to hold tournaments, people came from miles around; but alas! since this terrible war has recommenced we have almost forgotten those pleasant sports of winter. I do hope it will soon come to an end. I never could understand what men are fighting about. My dear husband used to speak of the balance of power; the French king wishes to rule everybody, he told me; certainly King Louis is a bad man; he has behaved disgracefully to us poor Huguenots; and I dare say you English are quite right in helping the Dutch to punish him. But war is so terrible. My dear husband was trying to invent something that would enable one army to make another army senseless without killing them; I know nothing about it, but the idea was excellent; and if the truth were known I dare say it was that odious Captain Aglionby who spoilt that too."

Thus the good lady kept chattering to Harry as she conducted him over her little estate. The evening was drawing rapidly in; a light mist was rising, and Madame shivered a little as she turned back towards the house. A moment afterwards her daughter met her.

"Mother," she said, "you should not be out in the damp air. You know it is bad for you."

"Yes, my dear," replied Madame de Vaudrey, submitting to be enwrapped in a large woollen shawl which her daughter's fair hands wound about her head and shoulders. "I have been showing Monsieur Rochestair our little property--alas! soon to be ours no more. I told Monsieur why, Adele."

The girl's cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.

"I did not tell you, Madame," said Harry, "that I happen to know something of Captain Aglionby."

"Indeed! nothing but what is perfectly odious, I am sure."

"I have reason to believe that he was concerned in an attempt to ship me to our plantations in Barbados. My man tells me----"

"Monsieur," interrupted the girl, "my mother is subject to chills. You are staying with us to-night; will you hasten to the house with my mother and tell us the story at supper?"

"With pleasure, Mademoiselle."

Harry felt a little in awe of this very decisive young lady, with her scornful lip and clear uncompromising tones. She hurried in advance to the house, and was waiting in the panelled dining-room when the others appeared. The table looked very inviting with its spotless napery, shining plate, and vases of flowers, and Harry found the meal much to his taste after the plain fare of Dutch hostelries. Besides such staple viands as Westphalian ham and bag-puddings--one variety of these, filled with raisins and spices, was excellent--there were dainty French dishes--confections of fruit and cream which surprised even Madame la Comtesse.

"Ah, you rogue!" she exclaimed; "I see now where you hid yourself this afternoon."

"Mademoiselle likes cooking?" Harry ventured to say.

"By no means, Monsieur, I dislike it exceedingly."

"Oh!"

"I knew we had nothing ready, Mamma," added the girl, "and you would not have liked Monsieur to think little of your hospitality."

During the meal Harry gave the ladies an account of himself, speaking of his early hopes and ambitions, his disappointments, the vain waiting for a message from Marlborough, the strange animus of the squire, the kidnapping, the interposition of Mynheer Grootz. His hearers were deeply interested; even Mademoiselle, though she said little, and seemed to curl her pretty lip when her mother's curiosity or indignation showed itself in little vivacious exclamations,--Mademoiselle kept her eyes fixed on Harry as he spoke, though whenever he happened to glance towards her she was looking away and appeared unconcerned.

"Ah, there now!" cried the comtesse, when Harry mentioned, without a trace of bitterness, Marlborough's failure to keep his promise; "that is my lord duke's character. He is mean, he is selfish, he loves no one but himself."

"And the duchess," put in Harry.

"But that is his duty. It is his duty to love his wife. I did not say he was a monster."

"Did you love papa from duty?" asked Adele simply.

"I never said that, Adele. Of course it is a woman's duty to love her husband, but your dear father was so good, so kind, so fond of me that no one could help loving him."

"Mynheer Grootz is good and kind, but you don't love him."

Madame de Vaudrey flushed.

"You say such odd things, Adele. I can't think how it is. I never said such things when I was a girl. Mynheer Grootz is good, and kind; you are right; and if it were my duty----"

"Oh, Mamma," cried Adele, "do forget the word duty! I am sure none of us either loves or hates from duty.--Would Monsieur like some strawberries and cream?"

Harry went to bed that night very well pleased with himself, his hostess, and her daughter. He liked the little, simple, talkative countess; he was piqued by Adele's reserve, coolness, indifference--he hardly knew what to call it; the something which seemed to indicate that Harry Rochester was a creature far too insignificant for the notice of Mademoiselle Adele de Vaudrey. "And she is clever, too," he thought. "Faith, how she sent Aglionby to the right-about! Polignac is a scoundrel; what will they do if he turns them out? And how did he come across Aglionby? She will not marry him, at any rate; that's one comfort."

It is very unromantic, but the truth must be told. Thoughts of Adele did not keep Harry one instant from sleep. His bed was a dark mysterious-looking box, with brown damask curtains drawn closely round it. Withdrawing the curtains, he saw a magnificent quilt of crimson satin, snowy sheets, a lace-trimmed pillow. He scrambled up, barking his legs against the high boards composing the sides, and the moment he laid his head on the pillow forgot Aglionby, Marlborough, Adele, and duty.

When Madame de Vaudrey bade good-night to her daughter she said:

"Eh bien, fillette; je l'aime, le bel Anglais. Il est brave, intelligent, modeste, parfaitement aimable, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oh, petite maman, que voulez-vous? Est-ce que je _dois_ l'aimer, moi aussi?"

And kissing her mother on both cheeks Adele ran off laughing.

Harry was awakened in the morning by the loud singing of the birds. He had left his window wide open, and the scent of flowers and perfume from the fir wood at the extremity of the estate gave him fragrant greeting. He sprang out of bed, and stood at the window inhaling the luscious odours, listening to the song of the birds and the incessant hoarse croak of the frogs, gazing at the grass glistening with dew. "I should like a week's holiday here," he thought. "Ay me! it is breakfast, and then for Breda!"

But he had only just left his room when he heard below a violent clanging of the bell, followed by a strange voice speaking in the hall, and a hasty running to and fro. Hurrying downstairs, he met Adele de Vaudrey at the foot of the staircase.

"Come with me, Monsieur," she said the moment she saw him. "Mamma is not down yet."

She preceded him through the hall door, at which he now saw a light calash drawn up, and behind it ten horses, nine of them sat by Dutch dragoons, the tenth being the steed of the soldier who stood at the door, and whose voice it was that Harry had heard. From the horses, clouds of vapour rose into the fresh morning air; the pace had evidently been forced. In the calash were two men: the elder, in the uniform of a Dutch officer of high rank, reclined on the cushions, half-supported by a young aide-de-camp seated at his side. He was deathly pale; his eyes were closed.

As Mademoiselle de Vaudrey, followed by Harry, came to the door of the carriage, the aide-de-camp without changing his position addressed her in Dutch.

"It is as you see, mejjuffrouw. It is General van Santen; he is desperately wounded. We hoped to reach Breda, but the general swooned a few minutes ago and I dare not drive farther."

"Bring him in at once," said Adele. "The soldiers can lift him. Never mind about explanations now. One of the soldiers must ride on to the village for the meester; it is only half a league. Monsieur," she added, addressing Harry in her quick, decisive tones, "assist; I will warn Mamma."

She ran back into the house. The inanimate general was carefully carried into the hall. He was a fine soldierly man, with a strong rugged face of English rather than Dutch cast. Harry remembered that Mynheer Grootz had mentioned General van Santen as a friend of his, and one of the ablest and most trusted of the lieutenants of William of Orange. Madame de Vaudrey had by this time come from above, and stood in pale expectation. The general was laid upon a sofa in the reception-room, and Adele had already provided a basin of water and a bottle of smelling-salts with which she endeavoured to revive the wounded officer.

"What is it?" cried Madame de Vaudrey, who had left these ministrations to the hands of her capable daughter.

The aide-de-camp explained that General van Santen had left the Duke of Marlborough's camp late at night on his way to the Hague. In the faint dawn he had suddenly come upon a French raiding-party which had apparently made a dash from Lierre. It was known that Tserclaes had advanced from the main French army in order to protect Antwerp. The general had dashed through with his men, but not rapidly enough to escape a bullet which had lodged in his groin. With great difficulty he had kept the saddle as far as the next village; but there, exhausted by the effort and by loss of blood, he had been placed in a hastily prepared carriage and driven on in the hope of arriving at Breda in time to warn the garrison. His wound had proved even more serious than was supposed; he had lost consciousness, and his aide-de-camp had deemed it necessary to halt at the first house and ask for assistance.

"In what direction are the raiders coming?" asked Harry.

"In this direction, Mynheer," replied the aide-de-camp.

"And how far away were they when this happened?"

"About ten miles."

"So they may be here within an hour?"

"If they ride on at once, but they will probably stop to plunder."

"Can they be checked?"

"Alas, Mynheer! there is no force near at hand."

"Surely they will raise the country?"

"But they are mounted, and the country people cannot cope with them. Even if the news is carried to Helmund there are none but burghers there, and they are useless against cavalry, except behind their own walls."

"And how many do the raiders number?"

"More than a hundred, as I judge, Mynheer."

Madame de Vaudrey stood in agitated silence while this rapid colloquy was in progress. Adele was still bathing the wounded man's temples; no one present had sufficient knowledge to attempt more than the roughest of means to bind the wound. In a few minutes the general opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he asked, feebly.

"In the house of Madame de Vaudrey," said that lady.

"How far from where I was shot?"

"Only a few miles," replied the aide-de-camp.

"Then someone must ride to Breda for help, and take my despatches. They must be at the Hague to-night."

"I will write a note to the commandant," said the aide-de-camp, "and send one of the troopers."

"No, no, lieutenant, you must ride yourself. I can't trust the despatches to a trooper."

"But I do not care to leave you, general."

"It is my wish. The enemy can only capture me, but they may do unheard-of mischief around. Delay no longer: ride fast."

The exertion of talking was too much for him, and he swooned again. Loth as he was to go, the aide-de-camp could not ignore the general's express instructions. Before leaving he took Harry aside and asked him to consider himself in command of the troopers.

"You're not strong enough to beat off the enemy," he said, "but it will be well for the men to have someone to look to in emergency. Don't let the general fall into the enemy's hands if you can help it."

Harry hesitated. His first duty was undoubtedly to secure the safety of the convoy, for the sake both of the Breda garrison and Mynheer Grootz. On the other hand, he scouted the idea of deserting the ladies in their predicament. Further, the raiding-party were upon the road behind him; they had clearly swept round Eyndhoven, avoiding Helmund, and in all probability were on the heels of the general. Even if he got his convoy safely away from the village it could only move at a walking pace. In an hour or two it must be overtaken, and he would thus do no good either for himself or the ladies by instant flight. He therefore made up his mind to remain at Lindendaal, and assured the aide-de-camp that he would do his best. But when the lieutenant had ridden off, and Harry reflected on the position of the ladies, he thought it worth while to suggest that they should start at once for Breda in order to be out of harm's way. Adele answered at once for her mother.

"Impossible, Monsieur! We cannot leave the general; we will not leave the house. Consult your own duty."

Her tone was not to be gainsaid. Harry went into the hall, wondering what he could do for the best. He met Sherebiah at the door.

"Eh, sir, 'tis a pretty pickle o' fish."

"What are we to do, Sherry?"

"As a man o' peace, I say cut and run."

"Can't we defend the house?"

"Wi' ten Dutch dragoons and a gardener and a maid or two? And two hundred French, so 'tis said!"

"But men will come in from the villages round."

"Ay, on foot, and with pitchforks and flails. Not much good against swords and carbines."

At that moment a man galloped up from a village some eight miles down the road, with news that the French were already sacking and burning. They had first demanded a ransom, and the sum required not being forthcoming within the short time allowed, they had begun their ruthless work. A few moments afterwards one of Harry's teamsters rode up on a cart-horse. He had heard the news from the aide-de-camp as he passed through the village where the convoy had put up for the night, and come back to ask for orders. Harry caught at the chance of delay. The French, it appeared, first demanded a ransom; could they be put off and time be gained for relief to arrive? The question suggested a plan that might be tried in default of a better.

"Ride back, Piet," said Harry, "and bring up the wagons as fast as you can, and as many of the villagers as you can muster--with arms, if they have them."

His idea was to barricade the road; every minute's delay was a minute gained, and as the news spread he believed that the Hollanders had courage and spirit enough to strike a blow in defence of their homes. In point of fact, Piet had hardly departed to fulfil his errand when Dutchmen came up in ones and twos and threes, some on great lumbering farm-horses, others on foot, all hastening towards Breda in the hope of escaping the devouring French behind them. A few had firelocks, some had bills, others staggered along under the burden of household valuables they hoped to save from ruin. Harry set Sherebiah to intercept them all as they came up and to bring them within the grounds, and as their number swelled he reverted to his original idea of defending the house.

It was a counsel of desperation. The house had several entrances, each one of which must be manned; it was too large to be held by so small a garrison. The outhouses would afford cover to an attacking force. Including the ten dragoons, there were only at present fourteen well-armed men among the ever-growing crowd; he could not improvise arms, and little effective work was to be expected from an untrained rabble, however courageous, pitted against regular troops. Further, to defend the house from within would inevitably lead to its being fired and blown up, and Madame de Vaudrey would profit not a jot. If the house was to be saved it must be by preventing the enemy from reaching it. What chance was there of effectually barring the road against the raiders? He went out to investigate.

As he reached the park gate he was met by two men who had just come on foot from the village. One was a yeoman, the other a soldier belonging to some infantry regiment--a man probably on furlough. Harry was struck by the similarity of their costumes. Their hats were almost alike; their doublets and knee-breeches of similar dark materials; but for the red collar and the bands around the sleeves, there was very little at a distance to distinguish the soldier from the civilian. A sudden notion flashed through Harry's mind. It was a chance in a thousand; the risks were great; the odds were all against success; but on the other side there was the imminent danger of destruction to the house, ruin to the owners, the capture of the Dutch general, and the subsequent burning of the village.

"We'll try it," he said to himself. "Sherry, send every man up to the house, and let me know the instant our wagons appear."

"Ay, I will, sir.--'Tis a pretty ticklish time o' day for a man o' peace," he muttered under his breath.

Harry ran back to the house. The doctor from the village overtook him on horseback, and they entered together. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey showed some surprise when she saw Harry, but she made no comment.

"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "the general is in good hands now. May I ask your assistance?"

She gave him a keen glance, rose at once from her knees, and followed him from the room.

"Mademoiselle," continued Harry eagerly, "have you any red ribbon, silk, stuff, anything, in the house?"

"Perhaps. Why do you ask?"

"Will you find all that you can, and with your maids sew red bands round the collars and cuffs of the men?"

"To make them look like soldiers--is that what you mean?"

"Yes," replied Harry, delighted that she seized his meaning so quickly.

"I will do so at once. Send the men to the hall."

Harry next called up old Jean, and bade him fetch the gardener. When the man appeared, Harry asked him to gather as many sticks as he could, by preference wood with the bark on, about five feet in length, and stack them at the back door. A few minutes afterwards a message reached him from Sherebiah that the wagons had arrived. He ran upstairs and, regardless of ceremony, called out: "Mademoiselle de Vaudrey!"

Adele came out of a room, holding a strip of red ribbon.

"Mademoiselle," said Harry, "I must go to the gate. Will you make every unarmed man look as much like a soldier as possible, and see that each is provided with one of the sticks that the gardener is now collecting?"

"Yes. Is there anything else?"

"Is it possible to run up a flag on the belfry-tower?"

"If you say it is to be done, it shall be done."

"I do not want the flag hoisted at present; but if you will prepare to do so----'

"Very well," interrupted the girl.

Harry thanked her with a look, and ran downstairs three steps at a time. He called to one of the dragoons to accompany him, and hastened again to the gate, meeting on the way several men whom, in obedience to his instructions, Sherebiah had sent up from the road.

"Sherry," he said, "ask this fellow if a cavalry troop on the march is preceded by an advance guard. He won't understand my Dutch."

"I can tell 'ee that," said Sherebiah instantly. "They do so. A patrol goos ahead, mebbe a quarter of a mile."

"Oh! Now, mark my plan. Mademoiselle de Vaudrey is making some of the Dutchmen look like soldiers; we've no muskets for them, but at a distance I hope sticks may serve as well. I am going to post these make-believe soldiers around the wall of the estate among the trees; it will look as if the orchard and woods are manned. They will remain concealed until a flag appears on the tower; then their sudden appearance will, I trust, make an impression."

"Ay, sir, 'tis famous. But if the patrol gets much past the house, 'twill be labour lost, for they will be near enough to see 'tis all my eye."

"Yes, that must be avoided. What can be done?"

"I tell 'ee, sir. Leave three o' the wagons on the road, half a mile or so towards the village, where the road bends; I reckon Piet and Hans and me can keep any French patrol a-diddle-daddlen until the flag runs up. Then--do 'ee see, sir?--dragoons slip out of copse and trounce the Frenchmen, Piet and me and Hans draws the wagons across the road: and there be a barricade."

"A capital notion! I will leave that to you, then.--Ah! here is a man from the other direction. He may have news of the enemy."

A countryman, with his wife and family, had just driven up in a cart. From him Harry learnt that the French were sacking isolated farms on the road, and might be expected within the hour. Harry at once went back to the house, ran up the stairs, and again called for mademoiselle.

"May I go up to the roof and see if I can descry the enemy?" he asked.

"I will take you."

She led the way to the turret stair, and in a few moments Harry stood upon the roof, whence on fine days a clear prospect for many miles could have been obtained. The morning was somewhat overcast, and the haze limited his view. But in one quarter he seemed to see a blackness that could only arise from the smoke of burning houses. Between him and the cloud appeared the gables of a house larger than Madame de Vaudrey's chateau.

"That belongs to Monsieur de Polignac," said Adele in reply to his question.

"The French will come to that first; that will gain a little time for us."

At that moment his eye caught the large barn-like building at the extremity of the Vaudrey estate, just beyond the ditch running into the canal. In a flash a new idea set his pulse leaping. Hitherto his only aim had been to delay or daunt the enemy until help could arrive from Breda or some nearer point. But the recollection of what he had seen when going round the estate on the previous evening suggested a daring scheme which made him tingle with excitement. Adele looked at him in silent curiosity as he stood for a few moments pondering the situation. Then he turned suddenly to her.

"Mademoiselle, who opens the sluices of the ditch when you make your skating-pond?"

"Jacques the gardener."

"Thank you! I will go to him."

He turned at once to descend. As he came to the head of the staircase he noticed a mass of coloured stuff lying at the foot of the belfry.

"Ah, the flag!" he said. "Thank you, Mademoiselle!"

A glance upward assured him that the running-line was in order; then without another word he went down. Finding the gardener, he hurried with him to the park entrance. His wagons were drawn up outside. He ordered three of his teamsters to drive their carts into the thicket beyond the outbuilding down the road.

"The enemy will have a rearguard," he said. "As soon as that has well passed, bring your wagons into the road and block it between the wall and the canal. I will send a dozen men and two of the dragoons to remain in hiding with you. Now, Jacques, go to the ditch and open the sluices. How long will it take to flood the field to a depth of seven or eight inches?"

"Not more than half an hour, Monsieur."

"Very well. Stay; have you a boat anywhere on the estate?"

"A punt, Monsieur. I go to market in it on the canal."

"Where is it?"

"In the old barn yonder, Monsieur."

"Bring it out and float it in the ditch half-way across the field. Moor it so that it doesn't drift."

The man hurried away.

"'Tis all ready, sir," said Sherebiah, coming up. "The road is blocked towards the bend, and the men be hidden in the wood. Med I ask, sir, if shouten would be any use?"

Harry smiled.

"We found it useful once, eh, Sherry? Certainly; when you see the flag go up, the more noise you make the better, especially if you can make a din with garden tools, or anything of steel."

"Trust me, sir; I ha'n't served wi' a travellen show for nothen. I'll show 'em the way, ay sure."

"Mind, not a movement till you see the flag. Now, to your places."

He returned once more to the house. Adele met him at the door.

"I have done all you said. Is there anything more that I can do?"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle! nothing, I think. I wish to see Madame de Vaudrey now."

They went together into the reception-room. The general had recovered consciousness, and lay prone on the couch. The doctor was at the window talking to Madame de Vaudrey, who was clearly in a state of intense agitation.

"Oh, Monsieur Rochestair," she said as Harry entered, "have they sent help to us yet?"

"No, Madame, I fear there has scarcely been time."

"What shall we do? what shall we do? I fear we shall all be ruined."

"Pray calm yourself, Madame," said Harry quietly. "Doctor, is it possible to remove the general to another room?"

"I do not advise it. He is comfortable; I hope he will sleep."

"Meester, let us take him to the dining-room," said Adele in Dutch.

"It would be a pity, and----"

"Do you wish it, Monsieur?" she interrupted, turning to Harry.

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"Then he shall be removed. Meester, be so good as to have the general removed at once. The men can lift sofa and all."

Adele herself called four men in from the front of the house, and the general was quickly carried across the hall into the dining-room. Harry was left with the two ladies.